


it's so easy to leave me (all alone with the memory)

by lesbianauriel



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (he gets better though don't worry), 5+1 Things, Angst, Autistic Martin Blackwood, Catholicism, Character Study, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Memory Issues, No beta we die like archival assistants, Self-Esteem Issues, Trans Martin Blackwood, autistic jon sims (not important to the story but important to ME), by way of stimming during a meltdown, canon-typical s1 jon being a dick, kind of, sorry for the cats song., the inherent intimacy of giving someone your stim toys, the original tag was 'light angst' but. ha. no
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianauriel/pseuds/lesbianauriel
Summary: "Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose. Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to just let them… slip away. They can’t hurt you if you don’t think about them; they can’t shout at you or call you names."Martin's always been forgetful.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker & Sasha James, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80





	it's so easy to leave me (all alone with the memory)

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to EMOTIONAL ABOUT MARTIN KARTIN BLACKWOOD CITY.
> 
> content warnings in the end notes!

1.

Mum was religious. She wasn't devout, not really, but it hardly mattered. She was always on time for Sunday Mass, always with little Martin in his nicest dress beside her. Dad was never there, even when he was around, but that was alright, he didn't really see the point of going. It was ... _fine,_ except when Martin forgot a response, or messed up in a prayer.

"I believe in one God," Martin always thought it was a bit spooky, how the church all spoke as one, "The Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth. I believe in Jesus Christ, His only begotten Son, our Lord, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under ..." He reached for the words, but they just weren't there. "Suffered under," He whispered to himself, but the words still wouldn't come. He fell silent, hoping no one would notice the absence of his voice.

No one did, of course, except Mum. At least she waited until they were in the car. Small mercies.

"You are _how old,_ " she said, "and you _don't_ know the words to the Apostle's Creed?"

Martin winced, clenching a fistful of his dress in his hands. Her voice was quiet - it always was when she was feeling ill. "I'm sorry," he said, "I forgot."

She pinched her nose, lips drawn up into a frown. "You forgot."

"I - I know the words! I just, I was ... I don't know..."

"Say them, then."

He blinked. "W - what?"

" _Say the words._ "

Her eyes bored into him from the rear-view mirror. He wilted under her stare. "I - I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of ... Maker of, of Heaven, and ..." The words disappeared, like wisps of fog. He curled in on himself, and the heavy, clipped sigh Mum gave him was worse than any yelling she might've done. 

"Unbelievable," she whispered.

2.

"Simply _unbelievable,_ " Jon said. "This is the _third time_ I've corrected this mistake, Sasha. Every citation, he manages to 'forget' the proper format -"

"Jon," Sasha said, voice tentative.

" _Not only that_ ," he continued, "but he consistently misfiles statements, he leaves his supplemental material in the wrong files, and the 'notes' he takes during follow-ups are incoherent at best. It's a wonder Elias hasn't fired him yet. Useless."

"You know you shouldn't be so hard on him."

"He's a trained professional making the mistakes of a high school dropout!"

The world ended a bit, right then.

Martin was standing in the entrance to the Archives. He'd been early today, but apparently not as early as Sasha or Jon - Jon, whose office door was wide open. He swallowed, praying for ... something. That he wouldn't be noticed, maybe, or that Jon would shut up, or Sasha would see him and kill the conversation before Jon started up again.

He knew the criticism was valid, of course. No one was more aware of Martin's lack of competence than himself, really, and he was _trying_. He really was. With Mum in the nursing home, he couldn't afford to slack off at work or make mistakes; it seemed, though, that his 'very best' registered as 'worthless', which was ... fair, really. The criticism was valid, but he wanted nothing more for Jon to just _shut up_ , because he sounded _so much_ like Mum when he talked about Martin.

It was unfair of him to think that, really, since it wasn't like Jon or Mum had any reason to think of him differently. Sometimes he just wished they didn't constantly _remind him_ of that. That thought was met immediately with a flare of guilt; why should he want to be treated kindly, when he was so ... _so_ \--

The door to the Archives were thrown open. "Good _morning,_ lovely coworkers!" Tim said, drawing Sasha and Jon's attention to the threshold.

Sasha straightened, shooting Tim and Martin a smile. Jon just sighed and motioned for Sasha to close the door on her way out.

3.

Living in the Archives wasn't so bad, really. Tim and Sasha were both kind enough to keep the kitchenette stocked, and while Document Storage was ... a bit stifling, it was still better than at his flat. Even Jon was ... well, not _kinder -_ he was still abrasive and snappy and all-too-happy to point out Martin's mistakes, but he was just a bit gentler. Even if he did get the distinct feeling that Jon was very much laughing behind his back. _God_ , he was never going to live down the flamingo thing.

Still. It wasn't too bad.

His mind was blissfully blank as he wandered into the kitchenette. It was late, though he saw Jon's office lights still on; it offered him a strange sort of comfort as he grabbed the first plastic cup of fruit he found in the fridge, grabbed a fork, peeled off the plastic covering, and took a bite.

The effect wasn't immediate. The first thing he noticed was the acrid sort of sweetness on his tongue, and then the rush of _oh, Christ, the worms,_ and then - then, the panic set in.

When he came to, he was sitting against the kitchenette's wall, his face sticky and blotchy and gross. It took him a moment to place the worried face staring at him, and even longer to realize that the person was holding his wrists.

"J - Jon?"

The man in question jerked his hands away as if burned. He blinked. "...Martin. I apologize, but you were - you were scratching at your arms. It was beginning to bleed."

Martin glanced to his arms, left exposed by his night shirt, and sure enough, angry red marks, some beading with scarlet drops, stood out against the freckled skin. "...Oh," he said.

"Oh," Jon replied, looking rather unsure of himself.

There was a long, agonizing moment where neither of them spoke. They just sat there in the early morning hours, avoiding each other's gaze.

The silence may have well been physical when Martin shattered it. "Peaches," he said.

Jon's eyes snapped upwards. "What?"

"I - I can't eat peaches anymore. Prentiss. I forgot."

Jon opened his mouth to say something, but apparently decided against it, shutting it with an audible click. "...I have a tangle," he settled on. "It's - it gives your hands something to do. I can lend it to you, in case ... in case you forget again."

"I - oh," Martin said, smartly. "I- I think I'd like that."

**Author's Note:**

> i meant for this to all be one chapter but i'm tired so. i'll finish it tomorrow !
> 
> content warnings:
> 
> emotional abuse from a parent  
> canon typical jon being a dick in season 1  
> self-injuring as a stim  
> a meltdown mistaken for a panic attack


End file.
